


The Ghost of Mutiny

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Reaper76 [59]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Betrayal, Curses, Ghosts, Haunting, Heavy Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pirates, Promises, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17431715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Jack Morrison knew that he was dead and that he had been for some time, although he had long since lost track of just how long it had been. The time that had passed since his death was a blur of nameless faces, unfamiliar ships and the seemingly never-ending ocean, but his death was still a clear memory in the back of his mind, never fading, never giving him peace.





	The Ghost of Mutiny

 

     The black ship was silent as it moved across the waters, untouched by the sliver of moonlight that made it through the clouds gathering in the sky above them and barely seeming to disturb the inky waters around it. The man on the foredeck was not so peaceful as he paced back and forth, hardly seeming human, as his form seemed to distort and waver with each step he took, and in the seconds as he passed the lone lantern that illuminated the deck, you could see that he was less than human. Features that could once have been considered handsome were twisted with rage, but it was the spectral wisps that danced around his skin, leaking from wounds that had never healed, and he knew that if he could see his reflection, there would be glimpses of ivory amongst the blood and smoke.

He knew that he was a monster.

    It fed into his rage, although it wasn’t the sole cause. He could be a monster, there were many people who had considered him such when he had still been Captain of the Overwatch, holding the sea to ransom as he tried to redress the balance between the poverty that his people and the settlements that supported them suffered, and the wealth of the mercenaries and navy that hunted them. No, as monstrous and ruined as his features were, he could live…or whatever the hell you wanted to call this cursed existence, with those. No, it was the betrayal that had led him to this point that fed his rage with each waking moment, that kept him aboard the deck even as the rest of his crew slept, driving the Blackwatch ever forwards in search of those who had created the monster he had become.

    He could barely remember the mutiny itself, which might be a blessing, as even now the knowledge that his own crew…that his family had done this to him left the taste of ashes in his mouth. He did remember waking adrift in the waves, and the desperate, exhausting fight to reach the tiny islet that had loomed above the water, offering him a mockery of refuge. He remembered clawing his way up onto the sand, blood under his fingertips as he had lacked the strength to climb to his feet, the burning sensation in his side and back speaking of injuries that he knew would kill him, realising with a pang of terror that this lonely piece of land would be his grave. At some point, he had passed out, and that should have been it, and yet somehow, he had fought his way back to consciousness when the sun was high in the sky, finding himself still alone, and sprawled in a drying pool of his own blood.

Alone.

    That was what had broken him. He had climbed onto hands and knees, desperately searching the sand and lapping waves for some sign that he hadn’t been abandoned. For some indication that someone had stood by his side during the mutiny. A distant, rational part of him knew that it was likely that any dissenter would already be dead because he knew that he should be dead. Yet right then even a body would have been enough, anything to quell the terrible sinking feeling that he was alone. That everyone had turned their back on him.

That Jack had turned his back on him…

    Because for the life of him, he couldn’t remember seeing Jack during the mutiny, and while he knew that his memories were messed up, he couldn’t imagine forgetting about Jack. Yet, there was nothing. No debris. No body. No footsteps in the sand. Nothing to indicate that anyone, even Jack had stood at his side, or spoken for him, and he had shattered there, falling to his knees in the sand with a wailing howl that echoed over the waves and letting the darkness take him.

It hadn’t kept him.

     He had no idea how long he had been on that islet, or how long the darkness had taken to seep into his very soul, but when the black ship had finally anchored offshore, he had been little more than a shadow of the man he had been.

    That had been months ago, and since then the Blackwatch had sailed the seas, destroying all who dared try and come against her and following the path of Gabriel’s rage as he trailed after those who had betrayed him. The Overwatch had been sunk weeks ago, and he had shown no mercy to the crew, those who had survived the initial battle, torn apart with his own hands, and yet still he was unsatiated, still trapped in this cursed, half-life that he had been condemned to, and it was all because of Jack Morrison.

Jack Morrison.

    The one man he had thought could never betray him, the one person who once upon a time might have been able to save him from this darkness. The one traitor that he hadn’t found aboard the Overwatch before she was condemned to the deeps. It was Morrison and the thought of his betrayal that kept him going now, driving him onwards, hatred and rage holding his cursed form together.

_Jack Morrison, you will die…and then I will finally have peace._

****    

    Jack Morrison knew that he was dead and that he had been for some time, although he had long since lost track of just how long it had been. The time that had passed since his death was a blur of nameless faces, unfamiliar ships and the seemingly never-ending ocean, but his death was still a clear memory in the back of his mind, never fading, never giving him peace.

    He could still remember with vivid clarity the pain as the knife had sliced through his face, blood blinding him, leaving him defenceless as rough hands reached for him even as he continued to fight, desperate to reach his Captain’s side. He could still hear Gabriel’s voice, raised in fury and alarm, the pained cry and dull thud that had followed…and the silence that came after. He had frozen then, the fight draining from him as rough hands bound him tightly, ropes biting into his flesh as he was weighted down. He had known what was going to happen and he had let it, unable to fight, unwilling to resist without Gabriel there to give him a reason to keep fighting. And it hadn’t been long before he had been thrown over the side, cast aside by those they had both considered comrades if not friends. Death hadn’t been as quick as he would have liked, and even now there was an echoing ache in his throat and chest as he remembered the desperate fight to breathe, his body refusing to give up even though he had, only to find water, not air.

The dark waters swallowing him, stealing his breath until he had finally found peace.

    The peace hadn’t lingered, although he had no idea how much time had been lost in those dark, unforgiving waters. All he knew was that at some point the darkness had receded, and he had found himself adrift on the ocean.

     It had taken him a lot longer to realise that he wasn’t alive, and he sighed now as he glanced down at his hands, pale skin looking almost solid in the half-light and if he squinted, he could pretend that it looked real. He didn’t squint. He knew that he was dead. He knew how it had happened…what he didn’t understand was why he hadn’t been allowed to come back. Why he was still here walking the earth when there was nothing left to bind him to the world.

    For a time, he had entertained the notion of revenge, of seeking out those who had killed Gabriel…not those who had killed him, but those who had taken his Captain, his friend…his lover. His death had been inevitable the moment that Gabriel had fallen. He had felt the call of it when he had first learnt that the Overwatch still sailed, under the captaincy of Petras who had initiated the mutiny, and for months he had hunted for his old ship, passing from port to port, and ship to ship, a spectre that no one could stop, and no one could help. He hadn’t known what he would do if he found them, unnerved by the burning hunger that consumed him whenever he thought about the men and women who had been their friends, their family, before the mutiny, and he knew that he wouldn’t like what he would do, but that he also wouldn’t hesitate.

    Then the news had trickled through to him in whispers between drinking partners and whores in the ports, and nighttime tales on the ships that he used to cross the sea. The Overwatch had been sunk, with all hands lost. He had half-expected to feel something – grief or anger he wasn’t sure, as that ship had been his home for a long time, a place where he had made memories with Gabriel, and his vengeance had been stolen from him. Instead, he just felt numb. Lost. Because even at that news he didn’t fade, his spectral form clinging stubbornly to the world and he didn’t understand because there was nothing to hold him here. Nothing to fight for anymore. And then he had heard about the Blackwatch, a black ship that sailed the waters, leaving none alive in its wake. The same ship that rumour had it had taken down the Overwatch.

A Death Ship.

A Cursed Ship.

    It had been like a fire had been lit under his skin. Suddenly, it had felt as though he had a purpose again, and although he didn’t understand he hadn’t resisted, needing that focus, that reason to keep moving, and so his wanderings had taken on a purpose. It wasn’t hard to trail the black ship, although he had yet to get a glimpse of it, but the stories, the bodies, they all marked a clear path, and he followed it with single-minded determination.

_Gabriel, will this lead me back to you?_

****

   The Blackwatch sat quietly riding the swells, her sails furled, and her flag moving in the light breeze, a dark silhouette against the midday sky. On the deck Gabriel stood leaning on the rail, staring out towards the horizon, crimson eyes searching for something out of sight. He heard movement behind him, but he made no effort to turn around. There was nothing for him to fear on this ship.

“Captain, the crew are getting restless.” The lilting accent told him it was Moira, and he wondered at her use of his title, something that he rarely heard these days, not that he cared. Captain had been the man who had died on the Overwatch, the man who had fallen prey to those he should have been able to trust. Here he was just another cursed man, who just happened to be listened to more often than not. Still, he grimaced at her words, knowing that none of them was good at waiting, every one of them having something to hunt down. However, he wasn’t moving on this, and his voice was a low growl.

“We wait.” He spared her a glance as he caught the soft noise of protest, meeting her eyes with his own burning gaze. “Something is coming.”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, before turning his attention back to the horizon. “But it’s important.” He had woken with an itch beneath his skin, and his cabin filled with smoke, something that hadn’t happened since the chase of the Overwatch, and a burning knowledge that whatever it was coming to him. Realising that she hadn’t moved and knowing that his power here was by the power of his curse, he turned back to look at her. “Give me until first light tomorrow, if nothing has shown up, we will leave.” He knew the danger of those words. That there would be no taking them back, and no way of talking his way out of them, but he was sure that he wouldn’t need to and after a moment Moira nodded, offering a mocking bow before retreating to inform the rest of the crew. Leaving Gabriel to turn his attention back to the horizon, hands tightening on the rail.

_Come and face me, whoever you are…_

**

    Jack knew that the crew were aware of his presence even though he had done his best to remain hidden, not needing the crossed chests and wild eyes to remind him that he was dead. Still, there was a nervousness in the air, eyes flickering in his direction, even though he had faded from sight as soon as he had come on board, and he had heard the whispers, the ghost tales exchanged over the evening meal. They knew he was here. Still, there was nothing they could do to hurt him, and they were serving a purpose, their ship carrying him towards where his quarry had last been spotted, the fire beneath his skin growing with each mile they covered, something quivering deep in his soul.

_I’m close._

    It was almost dusk, the sun beginning to paint the ocean red and orange when he spied the dark sails on the horizon a split second before the sailor in the crow’s nest sang out a warning. At once Jack was at the bow, shimmering into the view with no mind to the cries that spread out around him, a fire in the eerie blue eyes that had been dull ever since he had first come back to existence.

     It didn’t take long for their presence to be noted, lights spreading across the deck of the other ship and for the first time since his death, Jack felt alive. There was something, or someone on that ship that he was supposed to find, the certainty fizzing under his skin like lightning, and his hands were steady as he checked his weapons, for once not caring about the soft glow and almost transparency of them. _I’m close._ He wasn’t sure to what, but there was something in the air, a promise of answers, of freedom that meant that he didn’t care.

_Gabriel,_ _I will be with you soon._

**

    Gabriel gave no indication of satisfaction as the Blackwatch readied itself for the slaughter to come. It wouldn’t be a battle, it never would as long as he was captain, his smoke already spreading out to shroud the ship as the sails unfurled. Still, there was a rare eagerness in his movements as he moved to take the wheel, burning gaze focused on the ship that had appeared on the horizon. There was a small voice, an echo of the man that he had been that tried to remind him that this might not be an enemy, but it was quelled with ease, hunger for the hunt surging up and overwhelming him as he shouted orders.

   The Blackwatch cleaved through the waves, coming to life as she always did at the promise of blood, death and sacrifice having seeped into the very core of the ship, giving her a life, and a will of her own, and now she wanted to hunt.

    Gabriel could feel her bloodlust and could see it reflected in the crews’ faces, but he paid it no mind, studying the approaching ship with a hunter’s eye. It was a small ship, built for speed rather than fighting, and he was unsurprised to see her turning away, trying to flee before the larger, more heavily armed ship. It wouldn’t save them. The Blackwatch was fast for her size and relentless, and he bellowed for more sails, already sensing the kill when something caught his gaze. A flash of colour amongst the setting sun, and other ship. It took him a second to locate the source, drawn to the figure stood at the bow, glowing faintly and as the ship drew closer, he felt his breath catch…because he knew that figure, the posture and ragged coat better than he knew himself even after all this time.

Jack.

    Morrison, he corrected himself with a snarl, the numbness shattering under the force of the rage that engulfed him. _Finally._ The feeling settled over him, not dousing the anger, but containing it and sharpening it to a point. The smoke around him sharpening in turn, forming twin blades in his waiting hands – singing their own bloodlust in counterpart to his, and his lips drew back in a snarl.

_It is time for you to die Jack Morrison._


End file.
